


And You, And You, And You Were There

by ohthewhomanity



Series: And You'll Have A Place In It [5]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Child Abandonment, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Do I tag characters who just sort of run through? I guess I do, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lena is real and living in McDuck Manor, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:35:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthewhomanity/pseuds/ohthewhomanity
Summary: A collection of brief scenes during or after adventures that Lena, in this telling, was definitely around for. Mostly drabbles; one per episode of Season Two.





	1. The Most Dangerous Game...Night!

Webby and Dewey were harmonizing again, and it was really starting to get on Lena’s nerves. They were back from yet another McDuck Family Adventure, and practically bouncing off the walls, they’d had such a good time.

Lena was pretty sure that she was supposed to find it cute – that’s what a friend did, right? But their secret-handshake-song-and-dance-routine about how _in sync_ they were and what _great friends_ they were didn’t feel cute. It felt annoying. And then Lena felt even more annoyed at herself for feeling annoyed.

It wasn’t a good cycle, and she knew it, and she knew that it would boil over eventually, and she didn’t know what to do about that, either, so she said nothing.

* * *

“ _Game night!!!”_

Scrooge’s shout echoed through the mansion multiple times, the final cry accompanied by him running through the living room, past where Webby and Lena were chilling on the couch, a teetering stack of board games in his hands.

Lena sighed and got to her feet. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

Webby sat up straight. “What? Why? Lena –”

“Family game night? Not really my thing.” Lena walked towards the foyer, adding under her breath, “Besides, knowing this family, you’ll end up playing Jumanji or something...”

Webby was following her. “But if you’re not here, who’s going to be my partner?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “I dunno, why don’t you ask your best friend Dewey?”

There was a sharp intake of breath behind her.

_Shit. No. Rewind. Take it back._

But she didn’t know how. This family fought and made up and was fine afterwards, but Lena didn’t yet know how to do that. And if she turned around now, if she saw the look on Webby’s face, then she’d have to face the fact that she’d just hurt Webby, and if she did that, she might actually die.

So instead she muttered, “Have fun with game night,” and walked away.

And Webby gaped after her for a few moments before decisively rubbing her eyes on her sleeve, plastering a huge smile onto her face, and running off to find Dewey.

* * *

Lena arrived back in Webby’s room much later, and ideally she would have just been able to pull out the sleeping bag and go to bed and not talk about anything, but of course that didn’t happen.

“Is that a bruise?” Webby jumped up from the bed and hurried over to her. “Did you get in trouble?!”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, and nothing I wasn’t looking for,” Lena said, leaning away to keep Webby from touching the guilty, blemished cheek.

“What happened?”

Why did she sound so concerned? Lena couldn’t understand Webby’s apparent inability to be angry with her.

“I might have accidentally-on-purpose taken a shortcut through the junkyard the Longboard Taquitos use for boarding practice.” Lena sat down on the floor to unroll the sleeping bag. “I’m fine, they didn’t catch me, I just misjudged how much I had to duck to get under this big, stupid pipe.”

“More accidentally, or more on purpose?”

Lena didn’t answer.

Webby sat down next to her. “Why, Lena?”

“I don’t know. I was bored.”

“You could have stayed for game night. It was fun.”

“Yeah? Who won?”

“Technically Team Uncle – they were ahead as of charades and Jenga. But then we were all shrunken down to do battle with the tiny civilization secretly living in this mansion, so that kind of threw off the score.”

Lena shook her head. “I _knew_ something like that would happen. This family!”

“Yeah.” Webby grinned. “Isn’t it great?”

Lena took off her shoes and kicked them across the room, buying herself a few more seconds before she had to say anything.

“Look,” she finally said, “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Webby shrugged, looking at her knees. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I was being a jerk.”

“You weren’t. I mean, you kind of were, but I get why.” Webby began to twist her hair around a finger. “Dewey and I have been laying it on kind of thick lately, haven’t we.”

“A bit, yeah. Listen, Webby, I’m trying not to be...”

A clingy bitch? A detriment to your perfect life? A weirdo who’s helplessly crushing on her best friend?

“...in the way.”

Webby stared at her. “Who’s said that you are?”

“Nobody, I just… Your friendship is the first lucky break I’ve ever had.” Lena scowled. “God, that sounds even more pathetic said out loud. What I mean is, if I’m being clingy, and I know I am, I’m sorry. That’s not sarcasm. I really am sorry.”

“Go ahead and cling.” Webby curled an arm around one of Lena’s. “I’ll cling right back.”

Lena closed her eyes. “Thanks, Pink.”


	2. The Depths of Cousin Fethry!

“Hey, Lena!”

Lena pulled one earbud out, but otherwise didn’t really acknowledge Huey and Dewey’s presence, keeping her eyes on her phone. “’Sup?”

“If we were – hypothetically, of course – thinking about stealing Uncle Scrooge’s submarine –” said Huey.

“– so that we could hypothetically have an awesome adventure in a top secret undersea laboratory –” Dewey chimed in.

“– would you have any advice for the theft part?” Huey finished.

“And why exactly would you come to me for advice about stealing a submarine?” Lena said, still not looking up from her phone.

“Because Louie won’t help us,” said Dewey, “and because you’re a delinquent teenager, and if you told me you’ve never stolen a vehicle in your life, I wouldn’t believe you.”

Lena laughed, and finally lowered her phone.

“I’m only saying this once,” she said. Huey pulled out the JWG to take notes.

“One – hot-wiring’s a pain in the butt. If you can, get the keys; it’s worth the effort.

“Two – get someone else in the driver’s seat. It gives you plausible deniability.

“Three – ditch all communication devices. They can be tracked, and again, if no one can get in touch with you, you have plausible deniability.

“And four – find someone who can cover for you while you’re gone.” Lena put two fingers to her forehead in a casual salute. “If anyone asks, I definitely just saw you two heading upstairs.”

“You’re the best, Lena.” Dewey jumped up and headed for the door, Huey close behind him.

“Don’t mention it,” Lena replied, returning to her internet scrolling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lena’s advice about vehicle theft is entirely her own. The author of this fanfic is law-abiding, safety conscious, and otherwise boring, and does not advocate for crime of any kind.


	3. The Ballad of Duke Baloney!

“So it really was Glomgold.”

“Yeah!”

“And he actually had amnesia?”

“He did! And it turned him into a nice, happy person! And then he got his memories back and started being a jerk again.”

“Huh. Score one for the ‘nurture’ side of the debate. There may be hope for us bad birds after all.”

“Lena, what are you talking about? You’re not bad.”

“I was kidding, Pink.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.”

“…thanks anyway, though.”

“You’re welcome!”


	4. The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!

Donald tracked down Lena after dinner that night, keeping one hand hidden behind his back.

“When we were in Brazil, we met up with some friends of mine,” he said. “The other members of my band – the Three Caballeros!”

Lena smirked. “So I’ve heard. I gotta be honest, I didn’t take you for the college band type.”

“Oh. Well –”

“I’m kind of impressed,” Lena added. Donald beamed. His boys didn’t really count as teenagers yet, but he knew that this was high praise from one.

“So then I realized,” he said, “because you stayed at home, you didn’t get a chance to hear the three of us perform. And you being a music fan and all, that isn’t really fair. Well I’ve got a solution for that.

“Ta-da!” he said, holding out a flat, transparent little box. “Our album! Featuring all our greatest hits, from the glory days.”

Lena took the CD case. “Wow, thanks.”

It might not have entirely been sarcasm.

“You know,” said Donald, “you’re welcome to join us on family trips whenever you’d like. I know the kids are eager to have you there with them on adventures.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m ready for a McDuck Family Adventure yet.”

Donald huffed a laugh. “Me neither.”

He walked away, leaving Lena staring at the disc in her hand.

“Who still uses CDs?” she said to no one.


	5. Storkules in Duckburg!

Lena had so far avoided getting involved in the pseudo-business known as Louie Inc., but she couldn’t resist attending their commercial shoot – if for no other reason than to heckle.

“‘If you hear skree, call Louie’?” she laughed. “Talk about clumsy couplets.”

“It doesn’t have to be art!” Louie retorted. “It just has to be memorable!”

“Employer Llewellyn, if I may,” Storkules – yes, _the_ Storkules, evidently Webby hadn’t been exaggerating about their trip to Ithaquack – interjected, “why do we play dress-up while there are still harpies afoot?”

“If someone sees a harpy, they have to know who to call,” Louie explained, “and pay lots of money to get rid of it.”

“You’d better hope someone calls, because we’re already broke,” Huey said, shaking his piggy bank for emphasis.

Webby shook her head. “Guys, are the harpies really so bad? Instead of capturing them, why don’t we just channel their passion into something positive for society?”

Lena had to smile. That was Webby, all right – full of love for irredeemable monsters.

“The problem can’t be the solution, Webby!” said Louie. “That’s just business.”

“If we’re gonna trap them, we’re gonna have to figure out what they want,” said Huey thoughtfully.

“Well they’re not after food,” Lena mused. “If they were just going off base animal instincts like that, they’d be steering clear of people, or eating them already.”

“No mortal can know the mind of the featherless beast-face,” Storkules said ominously.

“Ha! The Junior Woodchuck Guidebook knows!” Huey pulled the book out from under his hat, causing Lena to wonder if the red cap was bigger on the inside.

“Harpies,” Huey read aloud. “Flying beasts of myth that steal –”

With a terrible _skree!_ , a harpy came swooping down from the sky, claws grasping at Huey. Webby pulled him to the ground and out of harm’s way, but the harpy snatched the JWG right out of Huey’s hands before flying away again, leaving a single torn page behind.

“Oh, no!” Huey wailed. “The thing I love most!”

Storkules scowled and stomped off in pursuit of the harpy. Louie, Webby, and Lena leaned over to look at the page still held in Huey’s hand.

“‘Steals the thing you love most,’” Louie read aloud. “Huh. Says it right there.”

For a moment, so quick that it went unnoticed by the other kids, Lena’s eyes flickered towards Webby. Then she straightened, adopting her most too-cool-for-this-teenager demeanor as she turned back towards the mansion.

“Yeah, no, I’m sitting this one out,” she said, already walking away. “Call me if you need me, but I’ll be inside, until it stops raining clawed death from above.”

“Call _us_ if you need _us!_ ” Louie shouted after her. He turned back to Huey and Webby, a wide grin on his face. “We’re in business!”


	6. Last Christmas!

Lena had lived in houses with Christmas trees in them before, and of course it was impossible to live in this country without knowing what Christmas was and having those songs implanted on your brain. But it wasn’t like she’d ever put any effort into learning the words of those songs, and she still felt more comfortable watching the McDuck Family from a distance than really being a part of whatever craziness they were getting up to now. Fortunately, no one was pushing her too hard to get up from the couch and enter the thick of the holiday fun. Webby had of course invited her to the festivities, and pulled her by the hand down the stairs for tree decorating, but she hadn’t tried to get Lena to hang any of the ornaments herself. Lena was in the room, watching and listening if not really participating, and that seemed to be enough for everyone else, at least for now.

It was one step better than Scrooge and Dewey, who took half the evening to drop the “bah, humbug” act (yeah, it was definitely an act – Lena knew what people who really hated Christmas looked like. They didn’t make nearly that much of a fuss about it; they just grit their teeth, shuffled along, and waited for it to be over. The vitriol for Santa, though, that seemed legit.) and show up to the party.

“Oh, hey, Lena – this’ll interest you.” Dewey plopped himself on the couch next to her. “You know those weird grungy bands you’ve got posters of all over your room?”

“Insulting my taste in music isn’t a great way to pique my interest, but go on,” said Lena.

Dewey leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but Uncle Donald? When he was a kid? He had those exact same posters in _his_ bedroom. He liked the same bands as you!”

Lena’s eyebrows lifted, and she stared at the fireplace for a while.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Lena?”

Lena shook herself. “Sorry – I was just trying to decide whether to use this information for family bonding or blackmail.”

Dewey rolled his eyes, but laughed. “Whichever you want,” he said, hopping up to rejoin the gaggle around the piano again.

“Hey – Dewey?” Lena spoke up, stopping him mid-turn. “Thanks for telling me.”

Dewey grinned, and returned to his brothers, and Lena went back to just being there, knowing that they were all doing their best to make her feel at home, and a bit annoyed with herself, because she couldn’t seem to help but make it difficult for them.

* * *

Eventually, the food was eaten, the eggnog was drunk, someone finally pushed Launchpad away from the piano before he decided to add a fourteenth day of Christmas, and everyone had begun to wander their separate way for the night – including those as-yet-unexplained ghosts, who Lena had chalked up to general McDuck family oddness. They’d probably had stranger party-crashers before.

Just as Lena was thinking about heading upstairs herself, Webby reappeared, hopping up onto the armrest of the couch.

“This is for you,” she said, holding out a rectangular object covered in wrapping paper – unicorn-patterned wrapping paper. It looked like Webby had added angry eyebrows in marker to the sword horses’ faces.

“Aren’t you supposed to open these in the morning?” Lena said, refusing to allow herself to be at all sappy about this.

“Yeah, traditionally, but I thought you might prefer to do it now, instead, with just us.” Webby shrugged, and rambled on, “I dunno, it was just a hunch, we can wait til tomorrow if you want, I’m fine with whatever, I –”

“Now is great, Webby,” Lena interrupted her flow before it got too avalanche-like. She took the present and tore away the paper.

It was a journal, like the one she already had, but new, and with a pale blue cover and a little pocket for a pen on the spine.

“I noticed you were running out of pages in yours,” Webby explained, giving Lena a chance to remember how to speak. “Not that I’m reading your journal, I promise I’m not. I just noticed when I saw you writing in it the other day.”

“I… wow, Webby, thanks. I love it.”

Lena reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out a small pink envelope – a little crinkled from the time spent pocketed, but still more or less in the right shape.

“I got you a card,” she said, feeling a bit embarrassed about it now that Webby had gotten her an actual _present._ But Webby received it with a little squeal of glee and threw her arms around Lena’s neck as though she’d given her the gift to end all gifts.

“Thanks, Lena!!!”

“S-Sure thing, Pink. Just, promise me you won’t read it in front of anyone.”

Lena may or may not have embellished the cheesy mass-produced poem printed on the card into something a little more interesting.

“Got it.” Webby stuck the card into her pocket, and settled herself in the couch cushions, snuggled right up against Lena in that easy, comfortable way she always did. Lena put her arm around Webby, knowing full well that in doing so she put herself in danger of dozing off right there in the living room.

“Hey, are you okay?” Webby whispered from her side. “You’ve been pretty quiet today. Like, more than usual quiet.”

“I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“Maybe try anyway?”

Lena thought about it. She looked at the fireplace, and the portrait above it of a swashbuckling adventure – the family legacy. And she looked at the Christmas tree, and all its decorations, and the presents piled underneath, and the piano – which only put that god-awful rendition of Twelve Days of Christmas back into her head, damn it.

“This was a fun party,” she said. “I mean, it was fun to see you all having fun with it, like, I can look at all of this and all of you and tell that it’s important to you, but… I dunno, it doesn’t feel like any of this belongs to me. And I know that doesn’t make any sense. But it’s how I feel.”

“Lena, you have every right to all of this. You’re a part of the family now. What’s ours is yours – even Christmas. Especially Christmas.”

Lena squeezed her briefly. “Thanks, Webby. I know.”

But she didn’t know, not really. There was something different about this feeling than the general fish-out-of-water feeling she’d been trying to shake since she’d been freed from Magica. And a part of her brain would keep puzzling over this for a while, until the chaos of the following morning distracted her from it, and then the holiday season came to an end, and there were other daily problems and adventures to dwell on instead.

* * *

As the Ghost of Christmas Past sailed back across time to whenever and wherever he preferred to call home, he paid little mind to a building he passed over some years earlier than the time he’d just left. Truly there was nothing particularly interesting about this building – it was an apartment complex in a city on the absolute opposite side of the country from Duckburg, and no Scrooge, McDuck or otherwise, had ever set foot in it. And while the inhabitants of some of these apartments did not care at all to know the “true meaning of Christmas,” their reason was not one that the trio of ghosts could have found any fault in.

Propped up in a highchair, a baby in a little purple onesie watched her mother take one candle from the hanukkiah and use it to light the other six set there for this night, leaving two spots empty.

“ _...asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah..."_

The baby was too young to understand what this song and ritual was all about, but her gaze was held captive by the glow of the flames, and she flexed her fingers in the air in front of her in a futile attempt to grab the little yellow balls of light, safely out of her reach.

“ _...she-asah nisim laavoteinu bayamim haheim baz’man hazeh."_

Her mother turned then to a second set of candles – a pair of silver candlesticks, with one candle each. She lit them, covered her face with her hands, and stood there in silent prayer, long enough for the novelty of the candlelight to wear off and for the baby to begin to fuss in boredom.

The mother lowered her hands and smiled at the baby, moving to take her from the highchair. “Good Shabbas,” she said, sitting at the table and holding the baby in her lap. She gently bounced the baby on her knee as she sang through several more songs and prayers, making her child giggle with little tickles and dances, tilting her from side to side on each _shavat vayinafash, shavat vayinafash,_ and letting her see her reflection in the side of the well-polished wine cup held aloft for blessing, and gently nudging her tiny fingers away whenever she snatched at the green pendant around her neck.

After a time, the mother put her hand on the baby’s head and held it there, reciting one more prayer with the best compromise between haste and proper pronunciation that she could find, as the baby squirmed and whined in protest.

“... _yisa Adonai panav eilecha v’yasem l’cha shalom._ I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” the mother said, moving her hand away again and bouncing the child until she stopped fussing. “I know, you don’t like my hand on your head. Indulge your momma once each week, won’t you?”

As she cradled her placated baby against her chest, her gaze fell on the dinner table in front of her, dressed in a white tablecloth, and with more food on it than she strictly needed for herself but that she couldn’t help but prepare, and with the two places set at the table, one where she sat now, and one across from her, with an empty chair.

She sighed, and looked up at the mantle, where the hanukkiah and the Shabbat candlesticks stood, on either side of a framed vertical photograph. She was in that picture, wearing a long, white dress. And beside her stood a tall duck, not as young as he looked, and to her more handsome than any other onlooker might deem.

“ _Dodi,_ you should be here,” she said aloud, for a moment forgetting herself – until a complaint from the baby brought her back to the present. She had squeezed too tightly in her emotion.

“ _Bubeleh,_ I’m sorry,” she said again, shifting the baby to an upright position once more. “Shabbat is no time for tears, and neither is Hanukkah. I miss your papa, that’s all. But don’t worry. He will be back. He will come back.”

She said it with a smile on her face, and the baby copied the smile, understanding the expression if not the words or the troubled thoughts behind them.

“Yes, he will come back,” the mother said again. “And if he doesn’t – then I will go find him!”

Hearing herself say such a thing, without really intending to, she then had to pause and think about it.

“I will go find him,” she repeated, testing how it sounded. And the longer she let those words hang there in the air around her, the more she liked them.

“I will go find him!” she said again, and she held the baby’s hands in her own and clapped them together, making the baby laugh. “Yes, little Lena, you will know your papa. I won’t let that evil woman destroy our family; I promise you that!”

And Lena de Spell, not yet a year old, clapped and laughed, not understanding a single word her mother said besides her own name, and knowing nothing of the long, lonely journey that that promise would soon send her on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we meet someone I've been wanting to introduce to this series for a while now. I wasn't going to until Lena started to learn about her... but the Ghost of Christmas Past was too good an opportunity to pass up. So you get a little more info now than Lena has. Let's call it foreshadowing.
> 
> For the curious:  
> "hanukkiah" - the Hanukkah menorah, a nine-branched candelabra  
> “...asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah..." - part of the first prayer said over the candles on each night of Hanukkah, talking about the commandment to light candles  
> “...she-asah nisim laavoteinu bayamim haheim baz’man hazeh." - part of the second prayer said over the candles on each night of Hanukkah, talking about the miracles done for our ancestors in days of old  
> “Good Shabbas" - a Shabbat greeting  
> "shavat vayinafash" - from "V'shamru," a prayer sung on Shabbat, about how we keep Shabbat because G-d rested on the seventh day of creation  
> “...yisa Adonai panav eilecha v’yasem l’cha shalom." - part of the blessing over children, said on Shabbat  
> "Dodi" - Hebrew for "beloved"  
> "Bubeleh" - a Yiddish endearment for small children


	7. Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s really what he said happened? You’re not embellishing for dramatic purposes or anything?”

“Nope! Well, maybe a little. But the big reveal happened on an airplane teetering on the top of a mountain peak, so, it’s kind of hard to be more dramatic than the circumstances actually were.”

“Wow,” Lena said again. Her eyes were on the sky, on the stars and moon and the void in between. They were definitely out way too late, and definitely in for a lecture if Beakley caught them sneaking back into the mansion. But their afternoon walk downtown had turned into Webby telling Lena all about her and Dewey’s investigation into Della Duck, from the McDuck archives, to Ithaquack, to the fight on the Sunchaser, and eventually they’d just had to plant themselves under a tree in the park so that she could finish the story.

“I didn’t tell you any of this while it was happening because we were worried that maybe she’d betrayed the family somehow, and Dewey didn’t want anyone to know until we knew for sure,” said Webby. “And then everyone started fighting, and I was busy trying to keep the family from falling apart, and then there was the Shadow War, and, you know, things got hectic.”

“That’s one word for it.” Lena shook her head. “This is gonna sound awful, but it’s kind of a relief. I mean, your family’s so good, it’s supernatural. So knowing that someone in it is capable of this kind of negligence – it’s something I’d expect from the jerks I’ve had as guardians, not from the McDucks.”

“Oh, yeah.” Webby’s feet tapped together, heels shuffling in the grass. “Uncle Scrooge meant well, but giving an experimental rocket to a mother of three is objectively a terrible idea.”

“Not Scrooge,” said Lena. “Though he didn’t exactly make things better. Nah, I’m talking about Della.”

Webby blinked. “What? Why?”

Lena looked at Webby, eyebrow raised. “It’s not like Scrooge tied her up and forced her to fly that rocket. She made that choice – an adult, a mom. To risk literally everything for – I don’t even know what. She could have been there for her kids, but she decided not to be.”

“That’s not fair,” said Webby. “She couldn’t have known about the cosmic storm.”

“And I don’t know if I’m gonna be in a car crash – unless Launchpad’s driving, then I definitely know – but I still buckle my seat belt.”

Webby frowned. “You’re not presenting equivalent scenarios.”

“And you’re getting awfully defensive about this.”

“She was their mom!” said Webby. “The guys were really hurt. I may not get why they decided to move out, but I can get why they were angry.”

“Don’t get me wrong – I get it, too.” Lena lay back against the grass, her eyes on the moon again. “I don’t think they’re right, but hey, I’m on the outside here. It’s not _my_ missing mom we’re talking about. But I get how it’s a hundred percent easier to think that your parents were killed than to think that they abandoned you.”

And Webby probably should have hesitated, it was probably too invasive a thing to ask, but she was still a little angry, and not really thinking about the consequences of her words, and the question just came tumbling out of her mouth before she could swallow it down.

“Is that what you think happened to your parents?”

Lena turned her head to the side, away from Webby, and Webby could practically see the walls going up all around her. Tall, thick walls with signs on them: Road Closed, Do Not Enter.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Lena muttered. “What about you, you never say anything about your parents.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a deflection. So Webby took a deep breath, set the argument aside on a shelf, and chose her response carefully.

“Me? I’m fine,” she said, laying back next to Lena in what she hoped was a casual way. “I’ve always had Granny. And now I have Uncle Scrooge, and the guys, and Donald. And you.”

Lena didn’t respond. Webby extended a hand and set it down beside Lena’s in the grass, not touching, but close.

“And you have all of us now too, you know.” Webby added softly.

Again, Lena said nothing. But her hand moved an inch to the side, just enough to intertwine a few of her fingers between Webby’s. And for the moment, that was enough.


	8. Treasure of the Found Lamp!

“This place is crawling with crooks,” Scrooge muttered, peering over the pile of garbage into the center of the junkyard, where a copious amount of Beagle Boys were napping amongst the trash.

“Which is why you asked me along, isn’t it?” Lena joked under her breath to the four kids at her sides.

“To be fair, you _do_ have more experience sneaking around this part of town than the rest of us,” said Louie.

“And sneakiness is what we need,” said Scrooge, “so we can get past them, grab that trinket, and then we never speak of this again.”

“There is no time!” said D’jinn. And then he went on to say something about disastrous consequences and Ifrit Dawns, but Lena wasn’t paying attention, instead starting to inch her way around the junk pile.

Webby was close behind her. “I have _so much_ to tell you,” she whispered. “I got to make up an elaborate quest! And direct a scene played by the gods!”

Lena put a finger to her beak for quiet, but smiled.

“I can’t wait,” she said, lifting herself over an old tire. “Now, if I were a lamp, where would I –”

“Treacherous Beagles!!!”

All eyes turned to D’jinn, who was standing on top of the closest mountain of junk, sword held aloft. Naturally, and unfortunately, “all eyes” included those of the Beagle Boys, who were now wide awake.

Lena rolled her eyes. “So much for sneaky.”


	9. The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!

“So let me get this straight: Scrooge McDuck has a girlfriend.”

“Yes.”

“And she’s as magically old as he is, and she’s _repeatedly_ beat him at the adventure game.”

“Yes.”

“Usually by cheating.”

“Correct.”

“And she’s even gotten the drop on you _and_ Beakley, tying you up and locking you in a closet.”

“Yes!”

“And she’s also _smoking hot._ ”

“Uh – I mean – yeah? Yes, she is.”

Lena laughed. “Sometimes, I really love this family.”


	10. The 87 Cent Solution!

Lena was having a fine time avoiding all McDuck Family Chaos (not that she knew what specific chaos was occurring today, there just always was something going on, and a day she spent listening to her music in a quiet part of the mansion was a good day) when her phone buzzed with an incoming video call.

She tapped the green button. “’Sup, Webs?”

“Hey, uh, Lena – best friend!” Webby let out a nervous giggle, her eyes on something off to the side instead of the screen. “I, um, Uncle Scrooge has a question he’d like to – hey!”

The image jerked as Scrooge snatched the phone out of Webby’s hand, peering into the camera with bloodshot eyes.

“Have you had any contact at all from that tenebrous aunt of yours?!” he demanded.

Lena’s brain went blank. She had to squeeze the phone to keep her hands from shaking.

“The – The last time I saw her was the last time _you_ saw her,” she finally choked out through whatever had stuck itself in her throat.

“Yes, that is what you’d say, now isn’t it,” Scrooge grumbled.

Lena wished that Webby would take the phone back. “So, uh, is anybody going to tell me what this is all about?” she said.

Scrooge sniffed. “Someone has stolen eighty-seven cents from my Money Bin!”

Lena blinked. “Eighty-seven cents. You think Magica de Spell would get all the way into your Money Bin and only leave with eighty-seven cents?” She paused. “Actually wait, she probably would, if she thought they were the Prestigious Pennies of Power, or something.”

“Is that a confession?!”

On the one hand, sarcasm was probably not the best response to an irate, paranoid, wealthy guardian figure. On the other hand, sarcasm was Lena’s only response to, like, everything.

“Oh, sure,” she said. “Look, my aunt hardly told me anything about her schemes when I _was_ working for her. If she’s moved on from your dime to some other coins, it’s news to me.”

Scrooge snarled, poking a finger at the screen.

“You’re hiding something,” he said. “You always are. Mark my words, I will figure out your scheme, and when I do – you’d best start packing your bags.”

“Uncle Scrooge, wait –”

But the call ended before Lena could hear the rest of Webby’s sentence, and she was left gaping at her reflection in the dark phone screen.

* * *

Webby climbed up into the loft, stepping carefully around the small pile of clothes near the top of the ladder. Lena didn’t have many things – she came with little, and asked for less – and what she did own was currently spread around the room in a way that told a story: the few shirts neatly folded on the bed, the books and lava lamp discarded on the floor, the one poster half-torn down from a wall, and the duffel bag lying in a heap at the foot of the bed.

Lena herself was on the bed, headphones in her ears and head crammed under a pillow.

Webby climbed up onto the bed, letting the movement of the mattress alert Lena to her presence, and waiting for Lena to pause her music and be the first to speak.

“So. How’d it go.”

“Just like Uncle Scrooge thought it would,” said Webby. “Glomgold confessed everything. Turns out he used a time-stopping device he snatched from the lab waste bin to steal the eighty-seven cents and create all the symptoms and hallucinations.”

“At least we can rest assured that everyone in this house is totally sane,” Lena said dryly.

Webby hesitated. “I know you’re still mad, but – he didn’t mean what he said.”

“Sure he didn’t.”

“Okay, well maybe he did, in the moment, but he wasn’t in his right mind. Even if ‘gold fever’ isn’t real, he was still sick, and exhausted, and someone _had_ stolen from the Money Bin –”

“– and he used the opportunity to show me exactly what he thinks of me. Just an extension of my aunt. And someone he’d just throw out at a moment’s notice.”

“He wasn’t in his right mind,” Webby said again.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Lena shoved the pillow aside and glared up at the ceiling. Her eyes were nearly as red as Scrooge’s had been the other day.

“People don’t show the worst parts of themselves when they’re comfortable and happy! All you get to see then is the nice parts. It’s when you’re sad, or angry, or scared that the rest of it comes out. We are what we do, Pink, and it doesn’t matter why we do it. I know you love to think the best of everyone, but the worst things we’ve done? _That’s_ who we are.”

“You’re wrong,” said Webby. “You have to be. If, if that was right, then what does that say about _you_?”

Lena shrugged, putting more effort into the gesture than was strictly necessary, giving an “isn’t it obvious?” edge to it. And Webby remembered – she was always forgetting – just how little Lena thought of herself.

They sat there for a while in silence, Webby trying to figure out what to say next.

“Do you want me to help you put your stuff away?” she finally said.

“…yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what happened next, read part six of this series, "The Morpheus Maze."


	11. The Golden Spear!

“You do realize that this is a horrible idea, by literally every definition of horrible, right?” Lena said as Huey plugged in the VCR. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen when you play that thing?”

“Junior Woodchuck Rule Two,” said Huey, “All Junior Woodchucks must be open to the unknown in their quest for the truth.”

“Fortunately for both of you, and quite possibly the world, I’m not a Junior Woodchuck.” Lena held out a hand. “Webby, give me the tape.”

“But mysteries, Lena!” Webby clutched the Necronomicasette to her chest, eyes widening to comical puppy-dog levels. “Mysteriiiiiies!”

“Nope, that isn’t going to work on me this time. Hand it over!”

Lena swiped at the tape, but Webby dodged, ducked, and rolled across the floor towards Huey, smoothly passing off the VHS to him.

“Don’t you dare!” said Lena, but Huey did dare, and into the VCR the Necronomicasette went.

Things fell apart pretty quickly after that.

* * *

It really wasn’t fair. You just couldn’t effectively fight the undead without magic, everyone knew that. And Lena had been on such a great streak of not using her powers, except occasionally, when Webby asked in that particularly sweet, eager way she had.

But if one had to save one’s best friend from self-inflicted zombies, then one had to do what one must.

Lena was just trying to decide what kind of hell to raise when the snarling of a chainsaw interrupted the groaning of the zombies. And there he was – Donald Duck, adventurer uncle – slicing through a zombie’s torso. Lena gaped as he confidently dispatched the zombie… only for the zombie’s top half to immediately turn around and grab him by the back of the head, prompting Donald to drop the chainsaw and start screaming.

“How can someone so stupid be so cool, and then immediately so stupid again?” Lena muttered under her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lena’s opinion of Donald is entirely her own. Her stance regarding VHS tapes that raise the dead, though, I do agree with.


	12. Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted for Weblena Week 2019 Day 1 – “Welcome Home!” Yeah, I know, it ain’t the shippiest thing I’ve ever written for a Weblena Week. I promise I’ll give you cuter stuff later!

“Hey Lena?”

Lena paused, turning her head back towards Louie. He was standing just at the intersection of hallway where one branch led towards the boys’ room and the other, where Lena stood, led to Webby’s.

Louie stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket. “I’m sorry for, you know, suggesting that Magica was behind our mother’s sudden mysterious appearance, or whatever.”

“Huh? Oh, no, you’re fine. I pretty much had the exact same thought that you did.”

“Right.” Louie turned and hurried off after his brothers, one of whom had been carried in that direction by Della Duck. Who had, as previously mentioned, suddenly and mysteriously walked in through the front door of McDuck Manor a few hours ago.

Lena hadn’t said much between then and now.

* * *

When Lena climbed up into the loft, Webby was bouncing on the bed.

“Can you _believe it?!?_ ” Webby said, for at least the third time. “The dramatic, triumphant homecoming of Della Duck! The last piece of the McDuck family’s greatest mystery, solved at last!! A family even more united than ever before!!!”

Lena kicked off her shoes, letting them stay in a lopsided heap in the middle of the floor. Duckworth would probably sneak in and put them away around midnight anyway.

“What do you think she and the boys are talking about?” Webby continued. “They have over a decade of family bonding to catch up on! I wish I were there – no, it’s their time, I shouldn’t intrude on that. Oh, it’s just so exciting, though! Della Duck is finally home! Isn’t it great, Lena?”

“Sure, I guess, whatever.”

Webby paused mid-bounce, an impressive feat.

“That’s three noncommittal teenage responses in a row,” she said. “Aren’t you excited?”

Lena shrugged. “No?”

Webby gaped. Lena backpedaled.

“I mean, I’m not whatever the opposite of excited is, either,” she said. “It’s just, nothing. I mean it’s not like it’s _my_ mom. Or your mom. So, like, why should I feel anything about it?”

“Because it’s a good thing that happened to people that we care about?” Webby sat down on the edge of the bed, putting her hand on top of Lena’s. “Being happy for your family is a thing. You do know that, right?”

And Lena couldn’t think of a way to respond to that that didn’t make her sound completely pathetic, so she didn’t say anything.

* * *

She didn’t say much of anything the next day, either. She just watched. She watched the boys fall over each other, and down the stairs, trying to connect with their mother. She watched Della nearly kill everyone trying to connect with them, too. She watched it all end in happy tears and hugs, like things always did with this family. And she tried to understand what she was watching.

She tried imagining what it would be like if her own mother just walked through the front door like that, and said, “Hi, Lena, I’m home.”

But she had no idea what her mother sounded like, or looked like. Or her father, for that matter. There were no pictures, no leftover notes or mysterious clues to draw assumptions from.

So if someone did come through that door and said, “Hi, I’m your mother/father/parental-figure-of-alternate-gender,” she’d probably respond about the same way as Louie did at first – mistrustful, unbelieving.

But now Louie was smiling and crying with everyone else, so that was done, for some reason. Maybe because he knew why Della had left, because she had apologized, because it was clear that Della knew just how much making up she had to do. Maybe that’s why things had smoothed out over the course of the day. Lena, though, didn’t know why her parents left, or if they had even left. She had no frame of reference for her family.

Heck, she hadn’t had any frame of reference for “family” at all before she met Webby. Well, before Webby, there had been Magica, but that was nothing near a good example of family, or an example of a _good_ family, what with the possession and the abuse and the centuries-long vendetta against the McDuck family.

Did the vendetta go both ways? Scrooge clearly hated Magica as much as she hated him, but he’d come around to Lena, more or less, eventually. What would Della Duck, with her ten-years-out-of-date frame of reference, think if she knew that Magica de Spell’s niece was in the mansion?

“Lena?”

Lena's bedroom door opened, interrupting her train of thought. She turned her head on the pillow just enough to see that it was Della’s head poking through the door, and then she looked away again.

“Mind if I come in?” said Della.

“I’m assuming that the boys get their inability to knock on a door before entering from you, and so my response to that question doesn’t really matter?”

“Sure doesn’t!” was the cheerful response.

Della stepped into the room – Lena didn’t sit up to look, but her feet made different sounds on the hardwood – and sat on the bed.

“I was just talking with Webby,” Della said. “Actually, she did more of the talking,” she added with a chuckle. “It’s rare I run into someone who tells a story as good as I do. It almost makes me wonder if there was a fourth egg I forgot about.”

“Hm.”

Lena let the silence stretch, until Della finally sighed and broke it.

“Okay, look. I know I’m not your mom –”

“You’re not.”

It came out sharply – but if Lena were honest with herself, she’d meant it to.

“You’re not my mom,” Lena said again, “and I’m not looking for one. I don’t know what Webby told you about me –”

“Webby didn’t tell me anything about you,” Della said calmly.

“She – Then –” Lena stammered for a moment, caught off-guard by a wave of warmth and gratitude. Webby hadn’t told Della anything about her. Webby, who didn’t know how to shut up, who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, who gushed first and thought more critically later, hadn’t said a word about her to Della.

Lena remembered that she was being sullen right now, and so she filed away the gratitude to be maybe expressed some other time.

“Scrooge, then,” she said, casting the net of blame more widely. “Or Beakley. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Nobody’s told me anything about you,” said Della. “Seems to me they’re all leaving it up to _you_ to tell me about you.”

“Fine.” Lena sat up straighter on the bed. “So I’ll tell you: _I don’t need a mom._ ”

Della smirked. “I bet you don’t. You take care of yourself just fine, don’t you? You always have.”

Lena lay back again. “And I always will.”

“I’m guessing you keep an eye out for the kids, too. Keeping them out of trouble?”

Lena shrugged. “Yeah, well, some people around here need someone to tug the zombie VHS out of their hands before they cause the end of the world, you know how it is.”

An enthusiastic laugh shook the bed. “Oh, I like you!”

Lena blinked, and rolled over onto her side to look at Della. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know I like you. The rest will come later.” Della swung her feet in the air, a carefree motion that Lena had seen Donald do now and again, off the edge of his boat.

“You’ll be aloof and stubborn, but eventually I’ll win you over with my warm personality,” Della continued. “Then you’ll finally confide your dark, terrible secret to me, only to discover that it’s really not that terrible after all. And we’ll go forward from there. Probably with tears and hugs and ice cream.”

Lena rolled over again. “So, _this_ is where Louie gets it from. For the record, the analysis is just as annoying coming from you.”

Della just laughed again, hopping up from the bed.

“See you in the morning,” she said. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but I’m a hundred percent ready for it. Goodnight, Lena!”

It was only after Della had walked out the door, and closed it behind her, and the mismatched sound of her footsteps on the hardwood faded down the hall, that Lena finally said aloud, “Goodnight, Della.”


	13. Friendship Hates Magic!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted for Weblena Week 2019 Day 3 - Sleep Over

When Lena heard the front door slam open and shut, she assumed one or more of the boys had grown bored of Binventory Day, and so she just turned up the music playing through her headphones and settled back into the armchair. So Webby suddenly appearing in front of her, breaking her usually consistent Library Day routine, was a bit of a startle.

“You’re home early,” Lena said, setting the headphones aside.

“Change of plans!” Webby was practically bouncing with excitement. “I made a friend! I was trying to check out a copy of _Spirits of the Shadow Realm,_ but the only one in the library was already checked out by this girl – her name is Violet Sabrewing and she speaks Old Norse and she wants to know all about my adventures with Uncle Scrooge and she’s coming over for a sleepover _tonight!_ ”

Lena was silent for a moment.

“Right. So I have about…” She counted off on her fingers. “Seven questions, give or take, and the most important one is _why_ the _heck_ were you trying to check out a book about the Shadow Realm?”

Webby’s grin took on a nervous edge. “Oh! Uh, no reason! Just some casual research. Light reading! Complete coincidence that the subject matter has anything to do with your past.”

Lena gave Webby a Look. And while Webby wasn’t the best at picking up social cues, even she could tell that this Look was a Don’t-You-Dare-Bullshit-Me Look.

Webby sighed. “Okay, okay, lately I’ve been using Library Day to read up on the Shadow Realm. Among other magical topics.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, you just, you never talk about it!” Webby hopped up to sit on the arm of the couch. “And I know I promised I’d be patient and not ask anything that you aren’t ready to answer yet, and I’m keeping that promise, see, I didn’t _ask_ you about this – but I still want to know! You’ve told me next to nothing about what you learned from Magica de Spell –”

“Because you don’t need to know,” said Lena.

“But it’s _magic,_ Lena!”

“Don’t you think you’ve messed with enough magic for one lifetime?”

“Nope.” Webby swung her feet a little, tapping the couch cushions with her heels. “So I’m really glad Violet said she wanted to have a sleepover to go over the book together.”

Now it was Lena’s turn to sigh, and she switched from one important topic to another.

“And you don’t see anything fishy about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Pink, just think about it. Someone you’ve never met before just happens to have a book that you want, not to mention an interest in shadow magic? And she wants to know about your adventures with Scrooge? And she suggests a sleepover as a way to get into the mansion? Who – I mean, what does that sound like?”

“Like a cool person who thinks I’m cool too?”

It was difficult to tell if Webby was being purposefully obtuse. Lena erred on the side of caution and bluntness.

“It sounds like she’s using you, Webby.”

Webby frowned. “For what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Cancel the sleepover.”

Webby looked at the ground, and then back up at Lena.

“No. Lena, not all of my new friends are going to have ulterior motives. Violet isn’t like you. We’re going to have a normal sleepover, and it’s gonna be great!”

With that, she hopped down from the armchair again and went running off to find her grandmother.

“But she _is_ like me,” Lena said to the empty room. “She has to be. And I’m not gonna let you make the same mistake twice.”

* * *

Violet brought a pie. As Webby took it from her, she shot Lena a gleeful sort of “See? Totally normal!” look. Lena just rolled her eyes in response.

Lena didn’t reach out to shake Violet’s proffered hand when Webby introduced her, either – but whatever Violet thought of that, she didn’t let show on her face. This girl was guarded. And that, to Lena, was suspicious.

Webby, either unaware or unbothered by the coldness of this exchange, led the way up to her room.

Violet paused at the door, looking back at Lena. “After you,” she said, motioning at the doorway.

Lena raised an eyebrow. “After _you._ ” Like heck she was going to turn her back on this interloper.

Violet shrugged and stepped into the room.

“Now, to business.” Violet unzipped her backpack and took out the book, sitting on the carpet. “I was just going to dip my toe into the thrilling world of tulpas.”

“Tulpas?” Webby sat down next to Violet. Lena remained standing. Nobody just read books written in Ancient Syriac for fun. Except maybe Webby. No, not even Webby – but there would be time for Lena to put her food down on Webby’s newly-revealed research venture after this Violet mess was taken care of.

Violet set her backpack aside and opened the book. “Tulpas are manifestations of powerful emotions,” she explained. “Hatred, jealousy, greed. They live in a dark realm adjacent to our reality. It’s the closest thing I’ve found in my research to explain what happened the night the shadows attacked Duckburg.”

She said it so casually, there was no way that she wasn’t trying to gauge their responses to it. Fortunately, Lena was already keeping a tight clamp on her emotions.

Webby, however, was even more of an open book than the one in Violet’s lap. “Hey!” she said in a too-high-pitched voice. “Don’t you want a tour of the house? The _normal_ parts of it, that don’t have anything supernatural locked away inside?”

“I thought I was here to review the book with you,” said Violet.

“Oh, we have plenty of time for that. It’s a sleepover! So, let’s start with some icebreakers to get to know each other.”

Webby patted the floor next to her, trying to get Lena to join them. Lena crossed her arms.

“Okay,” said Violet, setting the book aside. “I’ll go first. What do you know about Magica de Spell and the Shadow War?”

For a moment, Lena was frozen, then she clenched her fists, took a step forward, and opened her mouth to speak –

“Haha! That’s not a suspicious question at all, is it, Lena?” Webby grabbed Violet’s hand, pulling her to her feet and ushering her towards the door. “Come on, Violet, let me show you where the bathroom is, you gotta know that, it’s a sleepover!”

“Wait, Webby –” said Lena.

But Webby didn’t stop. “Normal night!” she shouted as she and Violet ran down the hall.

Lena snarled. Why did Webby have to be so difficult? So optimistic? That brainiac was clearly trying to use her to learn about her aunt, she’d outright said it…

She couldn’t let them be alone together. Lena was just about to hurry after them – but then her eyes fell on Violet’s backpack.

She naturally expected to find some evidence of dark secrets inside.

She did not expect to find Magica’s amulet.

* * *

“ _Get away from her._ ”

Webby and Violet turned to see Lena standing in the doorway of the bathroom, trembling with a volatile cocktail of emotions, all of them negative.

Webby’s eyes landed on Lena’s left hand, which was clutching the amulet. Her eyes widened.

Violet’s eyes were just as wide, but they were on Lena’s other hand, or more specifically, on the bracelet around her wrist, which was glowing – blue, then pink, then blue again in an irregular pattern.

“Is that some form of… friendship bracelet?” said Violet.

“Slumber party’s over.” Lena held up the amulet. “Where did you get this?”

“You can use magic!” Violet said, turning towards Webby. “Is it a natural talent? Webbigail, can you –”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to her!” Lena strode towards Violet, pushing herself between her and Webby. The bracelet crackled with a fresh wave of energy, surrounding her fist in light as she backed Violet into a corner by the toilet. “Don’t you ever come near her, ever again, you – you thief! You spy! You second-rate knock-off of me!”

“Lena, stop!” Webby cried, and in the moment where Lena’s attention was drawn back to her, Violet lunged forward, grabbing the amulet with both hands. There was a flash of purple light, and Lena was sent tumbling out of the bathroom and into the hallway, landing in a heap against the wall.

“Violet?!” said Webby. Violet was standing there, panting, still holding out the amulet. Before Webby could decide how to react to this, Lena came rushing back into the bathroom, glowing all over with that pink light. She bowled Violet over with a combination of height and magically-enhanced strength, shoving the smaller girl to the floor.

“That is _not_ yours,” she said, yanking the amulet out of Violet’s hand. “Now start talking before I show you what it can _really_ do.”

Violet stared up at her, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe.

And gradually the whole story came tumbling out of Violet’s mouth. Her original rational skepticism of anything supernatural. Seeing her own shadow come to life before her very eyes. The cracked staff landing in front of her on the beach, transforming into an amulet. Her newfound belief in a world beyond rational truths, and her desire to learn everything she could about it.

The entire time, Violet held Lena’s gaze – which Lena had to admit was impressive, knowing full well that her pupils tended to disappear when she was this deep into her powers, leaving behind an eerie blank stare.

“Have you ever felt like you were living a sheltered life and there was something incredible just out of reach?” Violet asked, bringing her story to an end.

Lena said nothing, though the magical glow about her had dimmed a bit over the last few minutes.

“Yes,” Webby said. “I have. And so has Lena, I’m pretty sure, but she doesn’t like to talk about that part of her life.”

“Do _not_ share your secrets with her, or mine!” Lena snapped. “That’s exactly what she wants you to do.”

“It is!” said Violet.

“So you admit that you’re a spy! Ha! I didn’t buy that story for a second.”

“No,” said Violet. “I want to be your apprentice.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“There’s so much you could teach me,” said Violet. “You and Webbigail. Books have only taken me so far. I need experience. I’ve had some success with harnessing the power of the amulet, and I’ve attempted to use ancient Demogorgon runes to contact shadow spirits –”

“Trust me, you don’t want to have _anything_ to do with spirits from the Shadow Realm,” Lena said, pushing herself to her feet and taking a step away from Violet, who gratefully sat up now that Lena wasn’t pinning her down anymore.

“You’re not a witch, then, if what you’ve said is true,” Lena continued. “But from the look of it, you’re well on your way to becoming a sorceress, and they’re dangerous enough.”

“But she doesn’t have to become an _evil_ sorceress,” said Webby. “You could teach her. You could teach both of us!”

“You two want me to teach you?” said Lena. Violet and Webby nodded eagerly.

“Okay. Here’s your first and only lesson: _stay away from magic._ ”

“For a girl clearly versed in the supernatural,” said Violet, “you are oddly nervous about it.”

“Yeah, well, you’d be scared too, if you knew what’s good for you.”

Lena sat on the floor, her back against the sink.

“Look,” she said. “Magic has caused me nothing but trouble my entire life. And I am trying my hardest to keep it out of my life now. But to be honest, I can’t avoid it. I was born with it, and it’s probably gonna keep bothering me til the day I die. But you – both of you – you weren’t born with magic. You’re not witches, and you don’t have to become sorceresses. You can quit now! Just put down the books and the amulets and leave it all behind.”

“You speak as though the supernatural world will leave us alone if we pretend it does not exist,” said Violet. “But we both know that isn’t true. The Shadow War affected us all. I would rather understand what I’m up against, and be prepared to fight it, than be caught helpless again.”

“Me too!” Webby punched her fist in the air. “I’m always prepared to fight!”

“Oh, no.” Lena shook her head. “This is one fight you’re staying out of, Pink. If it comes down to it, I’ll protect you.”

Webby crossed her arms. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me!”

“Yes, you do!”

“I can defend myself against magical beasts! You saw me take down the sword horse.”

“With my diamond dagger!”

“And I held my own against Magica de Spell during the Shadow War!”

“Only because my shadow was protecting you!”

“And that time with the money shark, I totally did magic!” Webby held up her own friendship bracelet. “Even though I haven’t studied it at all like Violet has.”

“Yeah, I’m still trying to figure that out, it doesn’t make any sense,” said Lena. “And I don’t want you trying to figure it out!” she added as Webby opened her mouth to speak again. “Webby Vanderquack, you will stay away from magic, do you understand me?”

“You don’t own her, Lena.”

Violet’s voice was soft and calm, but Lena still rounded on her as though she had shouted.

“And you do?!” she snapped.

“No.” Violet inclined her head towards Webby. “ _She_ does.”

Lena froze, and it was like everything she’d said and done that day was playing back in her head, only this time she could hear and see herself clearly. And what she heard and saw was a clingy jealous bitch.

Her chin hit her chest, her eyes on her hands, watching her hands as they slowly went from fists on her knees to flat on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Lena –” Webby’s hand reached for her arm. Lena shied away from it.

“No. Don’t you dare forgive me for this that quickly. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.”

Webby hugged her, forcing Lena’s head upwards, so she ended up looking at Violet again. To Lena’s surprise, the hummingbird was smiling.

“You obviously care about Webbigail, and want to keep her safe,” Violet said. “That isn’t a bad thing. But we all must choose our own paths when it comes to the occult. You can’t let jealousy get in the way of that.”

“Jealousy?” Lena tried to scoff. “Who’s jealous? I’m not jealous.”

“Well _I_ have my first best friend _and_ my new best friend here for a sleepover,” Webby said, giving Lena’s neck one last squeeze before backing away, “and I couldn’t be happier – ooh, unless we did makeovers! _Then_ I’d be happier!”

Lena huffed out a laugh. “Sure, Pink. Let’s do makeovers.”

* * *

“I won’t study magic if you don’t want me to,” Webby whispered to Lena later that night. They were all on the floor and in sleeping bags, as per sleepover equality rules, but Lena took some satisfaction in noticing that Webby had set hers up a bit closer to Lena than to Violet.

“Do what you want, Pink,” Lena whispered back, as difficult as it was to say. “Just... be careful. I don’t want to lose you. That’s all.”

Webby reached over to place her hand on top of Lena’s. Their bracelets shimmered in the darkness.

“You won’t lose me.”


	14. Raiders of the Doomsday Vault!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted for Weblena Week Day 4: Moon/Stars

“Well Dewey certainly seemed over the moon today, didn’t he,” Lena said, stretching out on the blanket they’d spread on the mansion roof.

Webby laughed and settled in next to her. “Seems to me the trip to Boarway ended up being a lot more than just a business venture.”

“Seems to _me_ that this family’s gotten even more dangerous than it was before Della got back.”

“You know you love it.”

“Maybe I do.”

Webby took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, happy exhale, her eyes on the stars above them. It was a clear night, no rain in the forecast, perfect for a slightly reckless kind of stargazing: several stories above the ground and with zero guardrails.

“What do you think it’s like up there?” Lena said, nodding at the stars.

“I bet Della would be happy to tell you.”

“I’m not asking Della, I’m asking you. There’s no way you haven’t imagined it, I mean, you’re _Webby._ ”

“Hm. Well it’d probably be pretty quiet, for one thing, since sound doesn’t travel well through a vacuum. And spacious – because, you know, it’s space. It’d be bright and hot when you’re facing the starlight, cold and dark when you aren’t. If we’re talking free-floating in space instead of standing on a planetoid, you’d have to keep rotating to maintain a balanced temperature.”

“Sci-fi rotisserie. Yum.”

Webby laughed again, and Lena’s heart did that thing where it imitated the speed of a butterfly’s wings for a couple seconds.

“But the really interesting part of space travel would be landing on other worlds,” Webby continued. “Beyond the moon. Beyond our solar system. To meet people who consider a different star to be their sun, talk to them, learn their ways of life, explore the mysteries of their worlds – did you know that there could be forty billion Earth-sized planets orbiting in the habitable zones of their stars in the Milky Way? And that’s just a rough estimate, and just life like _we_ know it, and just _our_ galaxy. What about the rest of the universe? What about creatures who live in conditions we wouldn’t consider livable? Like tardigrades? Alien tardigrades! There’s so much to imagine there, so much potential, I don’t even know where to start! I can see why Della left. I can kind of see myself following in her footsteps. Not the _exact_ circumstances, of course, but going to _space_ … It would be incredible.”

“Yes, incredible,” said Lena. “Also dangerous. Not that that would stop you.”

“Nope!” Webby agreed cheerfully.

“I guess with so much to explore, it would be a while before you came back,” Lena said, somehow managing to keep her voice even.

“Oh, no,” said Webby. “I’d have to come back to Earth, frequently. For one thing, Earth is where _you_ are.”

Lena tried to come up with some form of witty banter to respond with, but her brain seemed to have gone blank.

Webby looked away from the stars, tilting her head over and back to meet Lena’s eyes.

“Or maybe you could come with me,” she said.

“Maybe I could,” said Lena.


	15. The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted for Weblena Week Day 5: She’s a Hugger After All

Webby had barely set foot in her room before a pair of arms suddenly wrapped tightly around her in what was almost more an attack than a hug in its forcefulness – but that was Lena’s sweater her face was now pushed into, and Lena’s head tucked over her shoulder, and so it felt nice, despite it being a bit weird.

“Lena? You okay?” Webby squeaked out through squeezed lungs.

“That is _such_ a stupid question.” Lena let go of Webby and turned away from her, but not quick enough to keep Webby from seeing the expression on her face. It was a glare, or something like a glare, it was a bit too wobbly.

“You seem… angry?” said Webby. “Are you angry?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” said Lena, her back to Webby.

“Why?”

“I dunno, Pink, maybe I don’t like finding out that you’re in danger through _social media!_ ” Lena reached backwards to shove her phone into Webby’s hands. On the screen was a thread of posts about the night’s chaos, including an article with “Fame Hungry Monster Scales Waddle” as a headline, and quite a few pictures showing Webby and Huey in Beaks’s grip, and precariously perched on the side of the skyscraper, and being rescued by Fenton afterwards.

“Right. Um. So date night got a little out of hand,” said Webby.

Lena snorted. “I’ll say.”

“Everyone’s alright, though. Beaks is back to normal – his kind of normal, at least – and Huey and I got home, obviously. And I think Fenton had a good time, all things considered! Even though Gandra turned out to be a spy only there to use his voice to activate stolen Gyro-Tech.”

“Sure. Everyone loves a girl with an ulterior motive.” Lena rubbed her face with her palms, exhaled, and turned around, leaning against the globe near the door. To Webby’s relief, Lena’s face was now in its usual cool-casual-teenager expression.

“So, is the Huey-Webby Dating Service gonna set up the second date, too?” said Lena.

“Maybe. I mean, Huey says it went well, so a second date is probably in the future, right?” Webby shook her head. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. The whole ‘adult courting behaviors’ thing. It’s like fighting, but it isn’t fighting? Seeming angry but you actually care about each other? And the ‘meet cute,’ too. Does liking someone actually make you more clumsy around them?”

Which was when Lena put a little too much weight on the globe and it span out from under her arm. She caught herself on the doorframe before she completely fell over.

“No idea,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I related to Webby SO much in this episode. I doubt they're ever going to make ace Webby canon but they threw me SO many bones.


	16. The Duck Knight Returns!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posted for Weblena Week 2019 Day 22: Books/Stories

“So remind me again why we’re watching this?” Lena asked.

“Because Launchpad told us to,” said Webby.

“Uh-huh.” On the television screen, the purple-clad hero was thrown across a street, colliding with the camera. “And why did we say yes?”

“Because it’s classic television?” Webby offered weakly. “You know. By a certain definition of ‘classic.’”

“I thought it might be an interesting opportunity for pop-cultural awareness,” Violet chimed in. “My dads are constantly trying to get me into their favorite older television shows. I still see less of an appeal to them than books.”

“TV is great for cultural immersion,” said Webby. “That’s basically why I have an American accent at all. And hey, the effects might be a bit old, and the fight choreography is… dubiously realistic… but the story isn’t _that_ bad.”

“I see,” said Lena. “And here I thought it was just an excuse to have a cuddle pile.”

Because while Violet was next to Lena on the couch, Webby was completely on top of Lena, arms and legs wrapped around her, and they were all three surrounded by comfy blankets and pillows.

Webby giggled. “Well, that too.”

Lena pressed her lips to Webby’s forehead with a smile.


End file.
